


Borrowed Year

by JustAFlick



Series: The New Years [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAFlick/pseuds/JustAFlick
Summary: After a nearly fatal injury, Leia reconsiders her relationship with a certain spacer.  Set a couple months before ESB, neither party can run far from their feelings when they are off-base and alone together.  Part III of The New Years story cycle.





	Borrowed Year

There was nothing like a brush with death to give you a new sense of time. As Leia looked out into the mild Chandrila night, she marveled at the the way the clock had seemed to slow. She took a breath, loving the feel of the cool, moist air carrying the scent of the night blooming jasmine that crept up Mon Mothma's balcony.

It had been 9 days, 13 hours and 28 minutes since Leia had thought her life was over. Where before she'd barreled through her days, head down, heart muted, hope barely holding on, now she looked. She breathed. She took it in.

One of the first things she'd seen was him. Captain Han Solo. Hair a mess, eyes exhausted, mouth tight with worry. She'd been lying in the rebel infirmary for almost two days, barely responding to stimuli, for all intents and purposes in a coma she might never wake up from.

When the bomb had gone off, Leia had known her time was up. It wasn't a surprise really. She'd been living on borrowed time since the Death Star. Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock of her mortality had been so present it was almost audible. But, the days had kept coming and the nights had kept her up and there seemed no respite despite the fact that she just knew.

What did she know? A few things. She was a target. The Empire a marksman. She only had so much time.

So, she'd worked. Relentlessly. Tirelessly. In the name of her people, in the name of her father, in the name of her own indomitable spirit. If she was fated to die young, then she would make her mark. She would turn the tide. She would do whatever it was that people do when they have so little time.

It had only stung a little as she'd felt herself lifted off the ground and thrown toward the durasteel staircase. What hurt more was the feeling of not having finished, of having made only a tiny bit of progress.

But, she'd known hadn't she? And she'd tried. She'd tried so hard.

She would have thought, upon waking, that she would redouble her efforts, start the countdown once more. But, as she looked into those hazel eyes filled with grief then joy then a strange combination of both, Leia had felt the queerest thing. Peace. Resignation. Release.

When he'd called for the nurses, she'd let him. When he'd insisted she stay for another night, she'd nodded off to sleep. When he'd stolen her away on his ship, she had taken his hand and hadn't looked back.

It wasn't forever. It was a stolen moment, a little caesura, before the next violent verse began. In Mon Mothma's borrowed flat, Leia would recuperate under the watchful eye of her unlikely protector before returning to the strange reality of her life.

Han had gone out for the first time since they'd arrived, finally trusting her to keep watch over herself. He'd promised to bring back something more delicious than he could make and a few necessities besides.

At first Leia had been a little relieved. The last five days had been the most time she'd ever spent uninterrupted around the Captain. They had been surprisingly easy and entertaining, but full of the strange revelations one encounters when living with somebody new. Their edges bumped up against one another, and there were just some things you couldn't do with a…roommate so close by.

Leia had immediately drawn a bath upon his departure. She had stared at herself in the mirror for a while, as if watching the purple-green bruises would make them dissipate faster. Her body looked like some kind of bizarre modern art, the kind Mon Mothma hung on her walls. Finally she'd torn her eyes away from the sight and hidden herself under a blanket of bubbles.

The old Leia wouldn't have indulged so blatantly, using half the bottle of bath soak, drinking a glass of something sweet and spicy and strong. But, this was her second chance. This was her borrowed moment. And she wasn't going to waste it on restrictions and limitations.

Which brought her to now. To him.

There was one more thing she'd seen in his eyes that day. Want. Open, and unguarded, and so vital. It had called to her like nothing had since the day she'd lost Alderaan and gained her fight. Two years ago. He'd reminded her today that it was their New Years. While Chandrila slept, they would celebrate another year of war and friendship and hope.

Unbidden the memory bloomed within her again, the same hazel eyes, a little younger, a lot sharper, followed by a brush of lips, smooth and soft and warm.

She hadn't known immediately. Thoughts of familiarity and flaring attraction were miles from her mind as she raced through the Death Star trying to outrun her fate. But once the fear had settled, once the hammer hadn't fallen, she'd been struck. The same picture, the same record, the same name.

She had hated him then. Mostly because she didn't want to feel anything and a little bit because he didn't seem to recognize her at all. She'd told herself not to be ridiculous. She had seen his information long before meeting him on Coruscant. As was planned, she had remained anonymous, there for less than fifteen minutes and then gone again.

But, the knowledge still stung. Especially as she watched him make his way through the available women on base. Sometimes she wondered if he stuck around just for the lonely women.

Now, standing in the perfumed air lightyears away from the rest of the rebels, Leia marveled at strength her feelings. Aversion, denial, scorn, hurt, petty jealousy. What might be on the other side of that?

She'd seen a glimpse in the last three days. Han had been attentive, gentle, and wry. He'd made her laugh more times than she could count as he shepherded her through her recovery. He was an unlikely nursemaid, but a thorough one. With his steady attention, she'd nearly regained all her strength (even though she still looked a fright.)

But, he hadn't touched her. Besides changing a few bandages and helping her here or there if she needed it, Han had maintained a safe distance. Always near but never close. And as Leia observed, removed from time as she was, she saw in herself an increasing frustration with this state of things.

It was as if the air between them became more charged with each passing moment. The last time he'd reached out a hand to steady her, there had been an actual shock. Leia knew it didn't work like that, but it had driven the point home all the same.

Other things happened too. Her skin pulsed and tingled, one moment seeming too tight, the next seeming to melt off her. She'd taken to watching him move about the space, catching herself too many times, flushing when he'd catch her first. She had considered setting a timer. When it rings, you may look. Once. Then set it again.

Winter hadn't been wrong. He was absurdly good-looking. In a way that used to make Leia frustrated. Now…

She smoothed her hands down the sleeves of the robe she'd pulled from Mon Mothma's closet. Another move the old Leia would never have made. It was Coruscanti silk, as soft as sin and as light as a feather. If it weren't for the heat of anticipation, Leia would be freezing.

But she wasn't cold, and she wasn't scared, and she wasn't dead.

"Princess?"

His voice held a slight edge of panic. Leia had noticed, in her placid state, that they had seemed to switch personas. Somehow in the space between that bomb going off and her waking up, Leia had started to relax and Han had stopped.

He was wound tight as a bow string, always at the ready, hands and lips never still.

When Chewie had dropped them off, he had said, in Shyriiwook even she could understand, [Calm down, pup. You'll worry her to death.]

"Out here," she called. It took him less than a flick to find her, panting just a bit from a sprint across the apartment.

"Leia," he said, taking her in before scanning the night. "What're you doing out here?"

"Appreciating the view," she said, watching his wariness.

"Well come in, will you? It's cold out here." He beckoned her in with a flourish, and she noticed again that he stopped just shy of touching her.

She turned out to the night again. Hanna City glittered beyond the balcony. She'd been here a few times in her old life. She had always loved the political climate of the city, the way everyone was on the make and everything was steeped in history.

"Where did you end up?"

"A Takodannan place down the street. Didn't want to go too far. Besides," she felt him come a little nearer. "I promised you something delicious."

"You know, you underrate yourself. Everything you make is good," she glanced at him as he came level with her.

"Didn't say it wasn't," he flashed her a cocky grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, "Just isn't that special."

Leia let the comment slide. Him cooking for her was incredibly special. But, she understood the sentiment, and she watched the ghosts float by on a current of time and distance.

"What is that?" Han's voice had changed, a new depth to his tone.

"Mmm?" she hummed still letting go of the wisps of regret.

She felt the finger slide along her arm the way one might feel the slice of blade, hot, intense, and inevitable. When he removed it, she couldn't help but look at him accusingly.

"Sorry," he murmured, stepping back a little.

"It's Mon's. Silk. And graylock, I think." In demonstration, Leia reached for his hand and brought it to the delicate fur collar. She guided his hand across it, watching his face register the gesture.

The fire ignited again, the one that made his hazel eyes seem gold, the one that ignited a similar fire deep in her belly.

"You look good," he said, voice quiet and hand still.

"I feel good."

"Well, then I'm doing my job," he said with a wry smile.

"Is that why you're here? A job?"

He stared at her for a moment before dropping his gaze to his hand. He slid it up the fur decisively and cradled her neck. His fingers were a strange combination of rough and soft, their warmth seeping into her chilled skin.

"I'm here because I want to be. And because Luke has to stay with the Rogues."

Leaning forward, he planted a kiss on her forehead and released her, leading the way back toward the dining room. Leia stared after him, a little dazed by their momentary closeness.

"Come in, Princess. Time to eat."

Han stood at the door, silhouetted by the bright light spilling into the darkness. He was tall, and strong, and beautiful as always. Leia couldn't help but thrill at the fact that he was hers. Even if it was only for a moment, a few more stolen hours, away from the bustle of the base.

For a little while, there were no distractions and no complications. Just the two of them. And a dinner that wasn't rations.

The air inside the apartment was warm and thickly scented with the smell of fresh, hot food. Though Leia hadn't been very hungry before, she felt a healthy appetite stir as she breathed it all in. Han set about spreading out an assortment of plates and boxes, unwrapping the traditional carved hooks that Taakodannans used to pick up their richly slathered meats.

As usual Han had a knack for giving her exactly what she wanted. It was an odd talent, one it had taken her a long time to suss out. In the early days, their meals together were infrequent and usually in the mess hall. But as time went on Han had invited her more and more to the Falcon. Well, her and Luke, sometimes Wedge, and lately Luke's sometime girlfriend.

Leia had had her doubts about the Corellian smuggler's cooking. She had always figured that Han would be as dismissive about that part of life as he was about everything else. Those were the days before she'd really started to understand Solo. Before she'd learned how incredibly fastidious he could be about the things he cared about.

Cooking, apparently, was one of those things. He'd always have something different: spices from this planet or delicacies from that. It became clear he was an avid eater — he liked to try anything he could get his hands on. And the more Leia came to the Falcon, the more Han seemed to tailor his choices to her.

He'd also turned her onto new things. While Leia had banqueted on many planets with countless people and species, she'd rarely tried their street foods or their country staples. And she'd never been to the far corners of the universe the way Han had. She'd never admit it to him, but under his tutelage her tastes had become much broader and more refined.

Tonight, Leia's mouth watered at the smell of the spicy sweetness she'd come to associate with the Taakodannan cuisne. She sighed a little, eyeing Mon Mothma's impressive wine collection.

"Eyes up here, sweetheart." Han teased.

Leia grimaced at him.

"There's a wonderful looking red from Naboo that would go perfectly—"

Han cut her off with a shake of his head.

"Got one more day of V. If you drink alcohol, it won't work as well."

"I know, I know," Leia flopped into the overstuffed dining chair like a petulant child. "I'm taking one when we leave tomorrow."

Han didn't hide his smile, amusement lighting up his eyes. Leia couldn't help the grin that spread across her face in response. Few things in the universe were as beautiful as that man's smile. That was simply a fact.

"Never see you smile like that," he said, taking the seat across from her.

"Yes, you do," she chided, digging into the box in front of her.

"Not at me," he countered, sliding another toward his plate.

Leia glanced up to see him studiously munching on a pepper that was hot enough to make her tear up.

"I'll have to rectify that."

Han stared at her a moment. She couldn't tell if his slight flush had more to do with the peppers or her words.

"I'll hold you to it," he said.

Another shared smile and then they were tucking into their feast. They said little as they ate, letting the food speak for itself. As the eating slowed, Han told her a story about the vendor that had Leia laughing hard and long. Her smile faded as he, like clockwork, stood to retrieve the nightly vial from the sideboard.

"One more time," he said upon seeing the look on her face.

Leia knew the medicine was necessary, but that didn't make it anymore appealing.

"Just a little while longer?" she asked, reminding herself of that child again. She wasn't sure what child it was. Leia had always extremely well-behaved, the kind of child who always picked up her toys and put herself to more nights than not.

Han squinted at her, looking oddly torn.

"Sooner you take it, sooner it'll be over."

Leia wasn't sure he meant the medication or the trip. Their plan was to return to the fleet tomorrow, a prospect that had Leia feeling decidedly ambivalent.

"You want me to sleep through our last night?"

It wasn't her imagination, Han looked definitely torn at this. His fingers drummed against his thigh and he blinked a few too many times.

'Want you to get better."

The words settled into the space almost vulnerable, almost matter of fact.

"I feel just fine."

Han said nothing as she took the vial and set it on the table next to her. Of course she'd be taking it, doing her duty as she always did. But tonight, their last night, she wanted more—

"Time to clear the dishes then," Han's voice rang unnaturally loud. "If you'd taken your meds, you wouldn't have to help."

He pulled away again, setting about studiously gathering and stacking. Leia hadn't given much thought to where their plates had gone after each meal. Her nights had consisted of eating, medicating, and sleeping.

Sometimes a brief moment in Han's arms if he carried her into her bedroom…

"Isn't there a droid for this?" she said, feeling somewhat guilty.

Han shrugged. "Do it myself on the Falcon. Just habit I guess."

Leia trailed after him as he deposited the the go-boxes in the trash and set the rest in the sink. Mon Mothma's kitchen was well-stocked, but it had the look of a mausoleum.

Leia stared at Han's back as he washed the few dishes they'd used. He wore a light sweater of dark green. Leia was fairly certain she'd never seen him in something so…normal. Of course, she hadn't seen a lot of the real him until the last week.

"Han," she said as he laid the last dish in the drain.

His shoulders tensed and he paused, but he didn't turn toward her.

"What are you waiting for?"

This made him turn. He stared at her, his eyes surprisingly dark in the dull kitchen light.

"Princess—"

"We're here," she continued, moving towards him, "Alone. No rebellion, no distractions. I know you want me."

His eyes narrowed but his breath caught as she traced her hand along the side of his face.

"How do you know that?" his voice had deepened in a way that sent a shiver her her spine.

"I finally looked," she replied. It wasn't really answer, but it was the truth.

He leaned into her touch, and she stepped a bit closer, so the fur and the tips of her breasts underneath brushed against his chest. He was so much taller that the natural next move was to place her cheek against him and let his head rest on top of hers.

In a sudden rush, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her tightly against him. Finally, they were close. She slid her hands around his ribcage and along the soft wool of his sweater, breathing in the scent that she'd loved since around the time they'd managed to wash off the stench of that garbage shoot.

"Why'd it have to be now, Leia? Couldn't you have looked before?"

Leia felt a fist clench her heart. Was it too late? Had he met someone who mattered? Was he leaving the way he'd always threatened? What did he mean?

"Yeah, I want you. Wanted you since the first time I saw you."

His hands ran up and down her back, pressing and skimming. She felt a strange mixture of elation and confusion. She almost asked him what first time he was talking about, but she couldn't allow herself to be distracted from the heady moment at hand.

"So, take me. I'm here. Right here," she said, tilting her face up to him.

The expression she found there was pained, drawn, and greedy all at once. It certainly wasn't the look she expected.

He raised a hand to her face and stroked back her hair, leaning forward to drop a kiss at her temple. Then he placed his lips on her earlobe, gliding down to her neck. He kissed her chin, then her cheek, then her nose, then her eyes, but never, never brushed her mouth.

"Han," she whimpered as he pulled his face away. She felt as if she were on fire, and was fairly certain she could feel the evidence of his own desire pressing against her belly.

"You know why I brought you here?" He said, voice low and oddly measured.

She frowned, eyes fixed on his lips, thoughts swirling in a dance of lust and longing.

"To heal?"

He nodded, but she could tell that wasn't it.

"That stuff you're on,"

"The Vryrea," Leia clarified.

"Yeah. It's the only thing that could have saved you after that blast. But, it isn't exactly a normal drug they have around a hospital. I only know about it because of Jabba. It's something the kingpins use in the underworld…for a few different purposes."

Leia frowned at this. She felt her mind clear just a bit and the more logical, curious side of her emerge. Her internal bleeding had been so serious that even bacta wouldn't have brought her back. When Han had shown up with this medicine, the medical staff had said it was a miracle.

"What are the other purposes?"

Han looked away. She could feel his shift in energy, the intention to pull away, but she gripped him harder and willed him to look at her.

"They use it on their girls."

A chill skittered down Leia's spine.

"It amps up the life-force. When you're injured that energy is channeled into creating cells and new tissues. When you are healthy, that energy is diverted in different ways. It makes a woman fertile, and um—"

"Aroused," Leia finished for him. She felt her face flame, even as she continued to cling to him like a limpet.

He let out a short breath that ruffled against her hair. "Yeah."

Leia's mind was whirling again. She didn't want to think about the implications of what he'd just said. Were these girls willing? Had he used it before in this way? What had he done to get his hands on this supply?

But the most pressing question escaped her lips first, "Then why did you bring me here?"

Even though the logical part of her brain knew better, a wild, frightened part of Leia wondered if he'd thought to take advantage of the situation. If he'd brought her here so he could have her all to himself.

It was enough to make her pull away, even though every molecule in her body screamed with frustration at the move. That pulse between them was even stronger now that she'd been surrounded by that scent, those arms, the touch of those lips.

The drawn, pained look was back on his face as he took a step back from her.

"No, it isn't what you think. That's exactly why I brought you here. I mean," he hurried as he saw the look on her face, "I knew what the side effects were. I knew it would get worse as you got better. I thought…"

He ran his hand through his hair, and looked around as if searching for the right words.

"I thought you wouldn't want to be that vulnerable there. The doctors on base didn't know the drug. At first, I was gonna tell them, but the more I thought about it…"

Leia felt herself relax as she saw the truth spread out across his face. He wasn't lying. He never lied to her. And he'd been right. The thought of anyone on base knowing about what this drug would do to her filled her with humiliation and not a small amount of fear.

"You were right," she said. "It would have been dangerous if that information had gotten into the wrong hands."

Han nodded, relief splashed across his face. "Sometimes the girls would use it to drug the bosses right back. You can pretty much make someone do anything while they're under the influence."

Leia stared at him, once again aware of the gulf of life experience that lay between them. She couldn't quite bring herself to care, but now she wondered if that had to do more with him or the drug.

"So, why didn't you tell me?"

Han cringed again, bringing his hands together.

"I hoped I wouldn't need to. Wasn't sure how strong the effect would be. And it makes you go to sleep every time you take it, so…"

Leia frowned at him, allowing him to trail off before shaking her head.

"No," she said. "No?" he said, perplexed.

"Never don't tell me something. I don't care if you think you're protecting me. I deserve to know the truth. And if you don't tell me, I won't be able to trust you."

Han looked at her. A muscle jumped in his cheek.

"That's fair," he said.

Leia nodded and waited for one of them to speak again. They didn't. The room's silence was suddenly deafening as Leia contemplated her options.

She could take the dose and fall asleep, letting this whole thing pass into tomorrow. She could chew him out a little more and make it abundantly clear that she would never tolerate dishonesty. Or…

"So, what if I don't care?"

Han blinked at her.

"Huh?"

"What if I want to do it anyway?"

He suddenly had the look of a cornered animal. "Do what?"

A lot of options flew through Leia's head, most involving fewer clothes and more horizontal surfaces. But she grabbed at the nearest and most immediate.

"Kiss you."

Han drew in a breath as she took a step forward.

"It's New Years," she added.

"Can't let you do that," he said, looking as if they were the last words he wanted to utter.

"I don't need your permission," Leia said, a bit tartly.

"Oh yeah? How would you feel if I said that same thing to you, Princess?"

That caused her to stop, to catch his eyes and look for something.

"You really don't want me to?"

Humor and discomfort warred in his gaze.

"It ain't about that. It's about trust. It's about me caring about you."

Leia stared at him, feeling a mixture of awe and annoyance.

"I think this is the most you've ever talked about feelings," she said.

"Could say the same thing about you," he challenged.

But he had taken her hand, and she felt the same rush and tingle and clarity she always did when he touched her.

"It isn't just now," she murmured. "I've—"

"Princess, don't," he said, with a finality that seemed to flow into her. "None of this is real, you get me? If you want to come to me in a month and say the same thing."

Leia made a guttural sound and broke away, finally turning her back on him.

"But I won't. Don't you understand? I can't. I thought…" she suddenly felt her eyes fill with tears, "I thought that I was different, that I had changed because I'd almost died. But, it wasn't that, it was a drug," she turned on him accusingly. "So, when this is all over, I'll go back to being the way I always was. Broken, and driven, and cold, and alone."

"Yeah," he said, "Maybe you will. Or maybe you won't. But, know what? I'll be there. Whoever you turn out to be."

"Will you? Aren't you always saying that you're one mission from leaving us in the dust?"

He breathed. "That was before."

"Before what?"

"Before you almost ended up pinned to the side of an Imperial Base."

"What did that change?"

He sighed, "everything."

The silence filled the space again, but this time it had a different quality. A little more peaceful and less oppressive.

"So…you're staying?"

He nodded.

"Yeah."

It would have been a great moment for a kiss. Leia could see it in her mind: the surge forward the crashing of their lips, the way they would drink in each other's very essence. But, she stayed where she was. He was right. They deserved the real thing, whatever or whenever that was.

"I will kiss you one day," she said instead.

He gave her a wry smile, full of warmth and regret and hope.

"I know."

With a nod, she left the room, aware of him following her. She took the vial into her hands and looked back at him.

"You should open the bottle," she murmured. "It's New Years."

He looked back at it and shrugged, "I'll wait for you."

Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask, allowing it to dangle from his fingers.

"Can't ring in a New Year without the good stuff."

He followed her out onto the balcony again. They night was quiet. There were no fireworks, no shouts of gaiety, but Leia didn't need them to know something had changed.

They stood closer now, shoulder to shoulder, looking out into the void.

"I think we both know what we wish tonight," she said.

"Didn't you say they always come true?"

Leia looked up at him, feeling a flutter of something resembling excitement.

"In my experience, they do."

Han nodded, looking out into the night.

"I'll drink to that."

Leia smiled.

"Well, that's your tradition, isn't it?"

Han looked down at her, a question forming in his eyes, but Leia tipped back her vial, ready for this year to be over and for the next one to begin.

Immediately, she felt the lethargy steal through her veins as the medicine went to work on the last of her healing. Han slid an arm around her waist as she leaned into him. He dropped a couple kisses on her head, and whispered to her in a lilting, lullaby voice.

"The first time I saw you, I knew things were never going to be the same. It's been a weird ride, a long one, but I'm glad I'm on it. Happy New Year, my…"


End file.
